


Warmth in Winter

by Mytha



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cold Weather, F/F, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, post-haven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/pseuds/Mytha
Summary: Josephine and Cassandra find comfort post Haven.





	Warmth in Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lecriteuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecriteuse/gifts).



Dark, so dark. Only a few lanterns light their way tonight. Each step is a struggle in the storm. As if called upon by Corypheus, the wind grows cold and ravenous after the attack on Haven. When they had stepped out of the mountain tunnels, it felt as if they had stepped out of time. 

Now snow has begun to fall and icy crystals turn razor sharp as they rush past the file of Haven's evacuees. Josephine's nose and cheeks grow numb as she stumbles forward almost blindly in the night and storm, following in the footsteps of their leaders, hoping they will be led to safety. She hates the cold. She is not used to it, even after months spent in the mountains. 

The survivors of Haven go on and on through the night and the snow. By the time they finally find shelter and rest in a cave she has lost track of time. Miraculously, there are some dry branches to be found and someone starts a fire they all try to huddle around, grateful more for the light than the faint heat that does not reach them all. 

Josephine stands at the cave's mouth, lighting the way for all those that have fallen behind. Charter and Scout Harding track back through the snow in their old footsteps, making sure nobody gets left along the way. 

She worries about the Herald, Cassandra, Sera and Solas, who stayed to fight – to delay Corypheus and his dragon, to give them all the chance to escape. Have they survived the confrontation? Josephine cannot yet give up her hope of seeing them re-appear victorious out of the storm. The Herald certainly has surprised them before. 

As for Cassandra - she had been a little awe-struck at first, meeting the famed Hero of Orlais – though Leliana as well as the woman herself had soon disabused her of her fanciful notions on the matter of legends. Cassandra proved to be pragmatic and direct – and she only minded a little when Josephine used the threat of her to subdue difficult nobles. The Seeker was altogether more human than the hero the stories were about. Still, a dragon battle at the Grand Cathedral! Surely a woman who had fought three dragons at once would... 

Leliana appears at her side as if divining her thoughts. “She's resilient, Josie.” They watch the stragglers arrive one by one, Harding holding up a man almost twice her size. The dwarven scout is strong, wonderfully clear-headed and tireless in a crisis. Josie makes a mental note to convey her sincerest thanks on behalf of the Inquisition – if she gets the chance. These are the people they should treasure.

There are far off shouts in the distance – more left behind? Or is it the howling of the storm? Charter races back out into the snow and when she returns it is with a bloodied and beaten Solas and Sera. 

“Where is the Herald?” someone asks. 

Sera is inconsolable, her face a mess of blood and tears. “The daft git sacrificed herself for us!”

No! This cannot be! Josephine's heart aches - and aches doubly for Sera – the elf's infatuation with their striking Vashoth leader has been all too obvious of late. 

Less obvious has been her own heart's slow attachment to the serious Seeker. It stirs alive from its frozen terror as she watches Cassandra's familiar silhouette come towards them out of the snowstorm. Thank the maker _she_ is safe at least! 

The rest is short. They have to press on, put as much distance as possible between themselves and the devastation Corypheus has unleashed on Haven. Thankfully the snowstorm will hide their tracks from any pursuers. Josephine hopes that is enough to shake them off.

When she stumbles in the deep snow, painfully lands on her arm and spits mouthfuls of snow, Cassandra is suddenly at her side, steadying her and brushing snow off her clothes. Josephine declines the offer of a strong arm out of instinct and instantly regrets it. Hopefully she will not be thought rude. 

Finally, in the shelter of tall rocks that protect them from the icy wind, they put up their tents, start fires, distribute what food they have, tend to the wounded. Josephine cannot rest. It is better not to rest, not to think about what was lost at Haven, but instead of what can be done here and now. Keeping her hands busy will keep them warm. Only her heart feels numb now.

Suddenly there is a commotion. She watches as Cassandra and their scouts run towards a tall shape that has appeared on the path they took through the mountains. There are yells of “The Herald!” and “Thank the Maker!” Josephine watches almost thunderstruck as Adaar, now collapsed and unconscious, is carried into camp.

Tempers flare as they discuss what has happened – what to do now. Josephine is infinitely weary and if Adaar had not found her way back to them, then she is not sure she could have kept from losing hope. When their leader reappears in their midst, exhausted but near unharmed, she is ready to believe in the Maker's miracles. 

The camp calms after that. People begin to retire to tents, to weak and worn by the day to go on. Josephine sheds some tears now, but they are all relief, cold wind and tiredness. The loss of Haven replays in her mind and yet remains elusively unreal. She sits, her strength finally gone and would likely have fallen asleep sitting in the snow when Cassandra finds her there, staring into space. 

“Come,” Cassandra says, her voice rough with use. Josephine looks up at Cassandra through dancing snowflakes, half-dazed. She lets herself be led to a tent and feels like she could fall asleep even as she is, clothes half-frozen. Cassandra nudges her awake as her eyes close again and again. Josephine laughs and laughs when she finds her fingers no longer capable of undoing the clasps of her coat. Her hands are foreign, separate things. It is not funny, she knows, unlike her, but she cannot stop herself. Cassandra tries to warm her hands with her breath. Sitting close as they do Josephine can feel its heat on her face, but her hands do not quite thaw. When Josephine still struggles with her clothes, Cassandra offers her help. Together they shed their wet and ruined clothing and armor and slip underneath what dry coats and blankets there are. 

Against all odds, Josephine feels safe. Cassandra's body covers hers with an overwhelming warmth that her frozen limbs and heart soon respond to. Their reawakening is painful but life-affirming in its burn. Her hands are trapped underneath Cassandra's arms, where she had been instructed to put them to warm them up. Josephine contemplates the hard and soft of Cassandra as she presses closer, close as she can. There are strong arms around her as she finally succumbs to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Huddling for warmth is a great trope.
> 
> (I feel like I still owe you more Pentilyet - but let's take it from the top, I thought.)
> 
> Thank you to amarmeme for the beta!


End file.
